


when we all fall asleep

by rosycheeked



Series: Lights On Park Ave 2019 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Home, Lights On Park Ave, Low Self-Esteem, M/M, Mornings, Self-Doubt, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 10:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosycheeked/pseuds/rosycheeked
Summary: Tony wakes up and questions why Steve loves him. It's a surprisingly complex question for such a simple answer.





	when we all fall asleep

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> It's been a while. I've been writing, I promise I've been writing. Those WIPs...are still WIPs...but there is another Stony fic I'm finishing in November and it's going to be great! Also, I plan on doing every round of LoPA possible, so we have that to look forward to.
> 
> Anyway, Billie Eilish! A choice indeed. Somehow I always end up picking the song prompt.
> 
> E

_"What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me?  
What are you wondering? What do you know?  
Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me?  
When we all fall asleep, where do we go?" _

\- “bury a friend,” Billie Eilish

The bed is warm on both sides. It used to be so cold.

The curtains are open when he wakes up at half past nine. It used to be so dark.

Steve kisses him on the forehead before he leaves for his run every morning. He makes pancakes on Sundays. He writes little notes and draws little smiley faces and leaves them strewn around the Tower.

And Tony doesn’t understand.

Tony sleeps till half past nine; he hogs the bedsheets and he never opens the curtains.

Tony’s never cooked a decent meal in his life, much less for Steve.

Tony doesn’t leave Steve any notes or doodles or smiley faces. He stays in the workshop all day and sometimes all night and still Steve will bring down a sandwich and a smile.

And Tony can’t help but wonder: why?

Why does Steve stay with him when he gives nothing in return?

Everybody else left, eventually. Even the ones Tony had loved the most, the ones he had given back to instead of taking and taking and taking.

In his head, Tony asks Steve, _what do you want from me? why don’t you run from me?_

He is so afraid.

He dwells on what he’s lost and not on what he’s won and he’s so afraid that one day he’ll wake up to a cold bed and closed curtains; an empty house and the smell of stale beer on Sunday morning; the ghost of a kiss—

There, in the kitchen doorway, where Clint had complained of Steve’s lack of morning pancakes. There, on the edge of their bed, where Tony had convinced Steve to move in with him. There, in the middle of the gym, where Natasha had tactfully left them alone to “spar” instead of interrupting.

There, in Tony’s workshop, where Steve had first asked him out.

There, in Tony’s bed, in Steve’s, in _theirs_, where they had talked the nights away. They still do.

This is love, not framed shots for newspapers and kisses for the benefit of the people watching. This is love, and Tony can’t bear to lose it now.

But everyone knows—even Steve, especially Steve—that Tony is dangerous. He’s poisonous, he’s duplicitous, he breaks hearts.

In his head, Tony asks Steve, _why aren’t you scared of me? Why do you care for me?_

He knows Steve will smile that sad little smile when Tony talks badly of himself. He knows he won’t get an answer out of Steve, sweet, stolid, stubborn as a bull, loyal-to-a-fault Steve. Great with using a shield, great with loving without reason, without cause, without limit.

God, but Steve is _his_, and his alone.

How could Tony ever lose something like this and still keep living?

He is so afraid.

Tony falls asleep in Steve’s arms, minutes or maybe hours after Steve’s breaths even out, mind whirling at speeds faster than light, as it always is.

In his head, Tony asks Steve, _when we all fall asleep, where do we go?_

The Steve in his mind's eye smiles that smile, the one that made Tony fall for him years ago, and says, _home._

But Tony is already there.

He wakes up and both sides of the bed are warm. It used to be so cold.

The curtains are open; he checks the time. It’s half past nine, Sunday, he can smell the pancakes. Was that Bruce, joking? Steve, laughing?

It was, it was.

He’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I live on feedback and chitchat and love. Please sustain me. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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